


Eat My [Redacted]

by draculard



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: Devil Flanders, Dubious Consent, Inappropriate Use of Devil Horns, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimjobs, Spanking, This fic probably qualifies as a war crime somehow to be frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 21:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Ned's never had to deal with a schoolboy crush before.





	Eat My [Redacted]

**Author's Note:**

> Sowwy......

“Don’t have a cow, man,” Bart said. “You’re like, my hero. I _want_ to suck your dick.”

Flanders blushed so hard even his mustache turned red. “Now, Bart,” he said, stammering a little. “Sentences like that make baby Jesus cry.”

“I don’t give a damn!” said Bart. He grabbed hold of Flanders’s sexy green sweater and pulled him close. “I want you, damn it! I’ve always wanted you! Do you have any idea how much it tortured me in the summer to see you flouncing around shirtless, mowing your lawn?”

Flanders gasped and pressed a hand to his forehead, but he didn’t push Bart away.

“All those times you threw your fris-diddly-isbee into my yard…” he said.

“That’s right,” said Bart. “All a ruse to get you to notice me, man.”

He stood on his tiptoes, pulling Flanders closer until they were nose-to-nose. Bart smirked and leaned forward; his lips met Flanders’s, soft and warm and gentle.

“And it worked,” Bart whispered. He leaned away with a mischievous grin. “Now, you gonna let me eat your shorts, or what?”

“Oh, diddly,” Flanders whimpered. He stroked his mustache nervously and glanced down at the front of his trousers, where his erection was straining against the material. “Oh, Lord, give me strength!”

“Oh, yeah,” said Bart. He got down on his knees and undid Flanders’s fly. “You’re gonna need strength, all right. And endurance, and flexibility…”

He wrapped his sweet mouth around Flanders’s cock. “Nice and big,” he mumbled around copious amounts of Flanders’s flesh. “Just the way I like it.”

Flanders closed his eyes and raised his chin. He prayed fervently -- for God to forgive him, yes, but most importantly he prayed that Maude’s spirit was looking the other way, that she was too invested playing the harp with all of God’s other angels to see what Ned was doing with the neighbor boy.

God help him, it felt so good. Maude had never gone down on him like this.

“Please, Bart,” Flanders gasped. “If you keep at it, I’m gonna cum-diddly-um.”

Bart pulled free with a wet, sucking sound. “What do you want me to do, then?” he asked. Flanders licked his lips. After a moment, he pushed Bart down so that he was lying on the floor; he was infused with a strange confidence as he fully embraced his own sinfulness.

“It’s -- it’s like you said,” Flanders whispered. “I want to eat your shorts.”

Bart flushed with pleasure. Flanders grabbed him by the arms and flipped him over so that he was laying on his belly; with one hand, Flanders held Bart down, pressing his face into the carpet. With the other hand, he pulled down Bart’s blue shorts.

Flanders tried to resist a sudden, new temptation -- but then he realized, why bother? He was already going to hell for this. Gleefully, Flanders smacked one four-fingered hand against Bart’s yellow buttcheek.

“Hey, man!” Bart yelped, squirming in Flanders’s grasp. “I like, didn’t consent to that!”

“Quiet, you,” said Flanders. He whacked Bart in the ass again, and again, until the poor kid was screaming in pain. Flanders felt a twinge of guilt and paused, letting Bart catch his breath.

Through tears, Bart gasped, “Even Homer doesn’t spank me, man.”

“Well, I’m no Homer Simpson,” Flanders said. “I believe in discipline. After all, the Lord said, spare the rod, spoil the child.”

It occurred to him that he had, in fact, seen Homer strangle Bart a few times, so maybe Bart wasn’t trying to make a point about discipline. But it was far too late to do anything about that; it’s not like Flanders could go back in time and edit his words, and even if he could, he wouldn’t want to.

He leaned over Bart, spreading his buttcheeks to reveal the small, perfect bud. Flanders had never eaten ass before, but there’s a first time for everything. He swiped his tongue over Bart’s asshole, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“By diddly,” Flanders said, “it tastes like I’m eating...nothing at all!”

The words echoed in his head as he set to his new task with glee. He pressed his tongue deep into Bart’s ass while the boy squirmed and moaned.

“Oh, God,” Bart said. “Oh, God--”

As Flanders curled his tongue inside of Bart, he felt a change going over him. His temples ached and the skin seemed to stretch before it broke painlessly, sending rivers of blood down his face. Horns sprouted from his head, the sharp points digging into Bart’s ass. The boy felt it but must not have registered the new, different type of pain, for he only gasped and pressed his hips back against them.

“There’s no God here,” Flanders said. He wrapped his four fingers around Bart’s cock, which was barely as long and thick as his thumb. Flanders pumped furiously and Bart bucked in his grasp; suddenly his moans turned almost soundless. He was breathing too hard and fast to scream.

Bart came with Flanders’s hand on his cock, horns against his bare flesh, and tongue in his ass. He came with a strangled shout of, “Cowabunga!” as his entire body stiffened, pressing himself against Flander’s suddenly bare six-pack abs.

Flanders pulled his tongue away from Bart’s ass and stretched out next to him on the floor. His green sweater was gone, replaced by a velvety red cape, and he slung it over himself and Bart’s semi-nude form.

“Yo, Flanders,” Bart said, cracking open one eye. “Did you turn into the devil or something?”

Flanders considered the evidence. “I guess I did,” he said. “Who could have known that under my humble, God-fearing form was a diddly doodly devil in disguise?”

Bart smiled, a small, secretive smile. He turned in Flanders’s arms and kissed him gently, chastely, on the lips.

“I knew,” he said.


End file.
